Spotless
by Paperclip-Assassin
Summary: It all starts with a jelly doughnut in Kansas and ends with red wine in Pennsylvania. In between there's an epic love story that could have happened to anyone but luckily it happened to Dean Winchester. - Destiel AU. One-shot.


A/N

this story is random- I was planning to write a cute one-shot because the other week I was at this adorable old-school dry-cleaner's when the plot bunnies attacked. Turns out they had a lot more in store than I thought, so this baby turned out a lot longer. It's still just a sweet little someting, really.

Enjoy and leave a review if you liked it :)

(I don't own the characters and all that jazz)

* * *

**Spotless**

It was a gorgeous summer day in Lawrence, Kansas- hometown to Dean Winchester. Yes, _the_ Dean Winchester. Co-founder and CEO of the Winchester Trading Corporation, a worldwide renowned interchange organization for extraordinary cars. He had built the company from scratch, it was the fruit of a lot of hard work and dedication and with the help of his younger brother, lawyer and co-founder of WTC, he had made quite a name for himself in all the right circles. He didn't share the wealth of Zuckerberg, Gates and co but he was a little more than just financially fluid- although he never talked about money.

Right now he was enjoying a weeklong vacation and where could that be better spent than in his childhood home? Dean was someone to fiercely hold onto memories, not to the point that he could be accused of living in the past but still to a slightly obsessive degree. His mother had died under shady circumstances that no one had ever talked about, not his dad, not his uncle, Bobby, and certainly not the local police department and his dad had vanished from his and his brother's lives on Sam's sixteenth birthday with a sweaty handshake and not even a backwards glance over his shoulder. Dean hadn't looked back either. Except that he had. That's why he was leaning against the warm surface of his car, a 1967 Chevrolet Impala that had inspired his company idea, and stared moodily at the closed door of the house he had grown up in. It still looked the same, thanks to their neighbour Ellen there were even still flowers next to the walkway like no one had ever left, but it didn't feel the same. It wasn't his home anymore, just a house. A big house full of memories and Dean didn't find the courage to actually cross the threshold after what had to be at least five years since his last visit, afraid of the ghosts that might reside in in there.

With a frown he looked down at the greasy paper bag in his hands, which contained his lunch. Well, lunch was a very generous term because it was really just a jelly doughnut. A soon-to-be-ex jelly doughnut, Dean decided and retrieved the food item from the bag. He was usually more a pie kind of guy but somehow he hadn't been in the mood for either cherry, apple or banana crème when he'd been at the bakery, not that it made any difference now as he took a greedy bite out of the pastry, quickly followed by a second one which he promptly regretted once he looked down.

There, on his meticulously ironed, perfectly fitting light blue business dress shirt was a blinding purple jelly stain just chilling there and soaking the fabric, mocking him. The CEO pursed his lips and automatically rubbed at it with a napkin he had in foresight brought, effectively worsening the mark his food had left on him.

"Great," he muttered to himself, quickly shoving the rest of his meal into his mouth without really tasting it. At least the little accident gave him an excuse to postpone the reunion with the Winchester family home for now, seeing as getting rid of that stain was to better be taken care of as soon as possible. It was his favourite shirt, after all. Or so he told himself as he scrunched up the paper bag in his hands together with the now sticky napkin and threw the messy ball into Ellen's trash can before getting into his car.

He blindly navigated himself to Novak's Laundry Service, a small local establishment on the outskirts of town practically every Lawrence citizen had frequented at least once in their lives. Dean and Sam had gone to school with a couple of kids from the Novak family, but most of them had been older than the Winchester brothers so there hadn't been any real contact. The drive took him barely ten minutes from where he used to live and he remembered it feeling so much longer when he had been twelve and had to ride there on his bike to get the fancy suit for his dad's second wedding- to which neither he or Sam or Bobby had been invited but that was an entirely different story.

Pulling up in front of the tiny store was like looking through a photo album because, as opposed to how he felt towards the Winchester residence, this place still felt like something he knew and he almost found himself smiling as he got out of the car. In the Impala's trunk he blindly fished for a t-shirt in his suitcase before heading into the Novak's laundrette, cringing at the familiar jingle of the bell above the door. Inside, everything looked a lot more modern than he remembered, which was a good thing seeing as the huge washing machines had been ancient back then already.

But the interior design wasn't the only thing that was new.

Behind the counter sat a man roughly Dean's own age- maybe a few years older, maybe slightly younger- with a disarrayed thicket of close-to-black hair and about three days' worth of stubble upon his cheeks. In his lap rested a 1k-plus-pages monstrosity that the CEO only barely recognized as a book and the mystery man was apparently quite fascinated with.

Dean cleared his throat in order to call attention to himself and when the man behind the simple desk with the cash register on it looked up the world certainly didn't stop but to Dean it might as well have. A pair of blue eyes met with his green ones and he almost forgot how to correctly in- and exhale for a moment so he just stood there uselessly for a couple of seconds trying to remember the mechanics of that.

"Can I help you?" The other man's voice didn't exactly help the Winchester to regain his breathing abilities because it sounded deep and steady and sent a bolt of something Dean hadn't felt in a very long time through his body.

"I, uh, got a stain on my shirt," he explained, pointing at the half-dried splatter of purple on blue background in the centre of his chest.

"Yes, well, people rarely come in here for the small talk." The Winchester noticed a slightly uncomfortable edge to the sarcasm and guessed it wasn't necessarily a section of the English language the blue-eyed man was fluent in.

"Right," said Dean. "Do you think you can get the stain out or…"

"Of course I can." The man rolled his too-blue eyes. "But you will need to take it off first."

Dean blushed and started to unbutton the item of clothing before shrugging out of it and handing it over for the other to examine. Instead of taking the shirt held out to him, however, the dark-haired man's gaze dropped to the plains of Dean's exposed chest. The Winchester had been in much better shape once and he was far from being as distinctly chiselled as his Adonis of a younger brother but he was still aware that he was, in fact, nice to look at. Or so he'd been told.

After almost a minute the other man's intense stare made him feel self-conscious- and a little bit turned-on -so he quickly slipped the t-shirt he had grabbed in the car over his head, tugging it down by the hem until his torso was covered again. The action made blue eyes snap up again and stubbled cheeks turned pink as slender fingers reached out for the jelly-stained shirt.

Both men pretended like the odd moment of staring hadn't occurred.

"Listen," Dean started suddenly, "This shop has belonged to the Novak family forever and they never let anyone else work even a single shift in here" –he was speaking from personal experience there- "So I know you're probably a Novak or at least married to one. But I don't know you, do I?"

The other man tilted his head slightly. "You're a native."

"Sure am. Dean Winchester, Lawrence born and raised." Dean puffed his chest out somewhat proudly.

Blue eyes widened. "Wait, you're Dean Winchester? Dean Winchester, captain of the football team and heart-breaker extraordinaire of Lawrence High?"

Dean shrugged. "All boys wanted to be me, all girls wanted to be with me him, blah, blah-fucking-blah. You know, I wasn't all that great if you asked me."

"Oh, I quite agree." The other man smiled. "I'm Castiel Novak."

Now that name rang a faint bell. Castiel was the youngest of the Novak siblings but still at least two years older than Dean. They'd had not a single conversation during the time that they went to the same school but Castiel had been ever-present in the school's newspaper as its editor and had, like, never gotten anything other than an A on any subject in any year ever.

"You're _Einstein_," Dean blurted out, remembering the nickname his fellow footballers had not-so-creatively come up with.

Castiel chuckled benevolently. "Ah, that's a name I haven't heard in a while."

"Really? That's crazy 'cause I just heard it yesterday on the History Channel. Apparently he was some crazy-smart scientist, can you believe it?" Dean smiled his best toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile and leaned onto the counter next to the cash register.

The Novak just raised an eye-brow. "I do hope you are making a joke, otherwise you're sadly fitting the stereotype of a mud monkey, or jock, as I believe was the more popular term."

"Actually, I was flirting," Dean admitted cheekily, adding a suggestive wink for good measure. Now that caused a strange reaction from the Novak. His blue eyes grew wide and shocked and darted about the room in confusion and Dean realized that the older man had already graduated when Dean had been caught making out with some exchange student on a party, outing his bisexuality. It had been a fairly big deal back then and almost cost him his place on the team, his so-called friends all turning their backs on him and leaving him cute little notes with 'faggot' written on them. Castiel obviously still remembered him as the ladies-man dating Lisa Braeden, head-cheerleader.

Thinking back now, pre-coming-out Dean Winchester had been a cliché on legs, nothing more.

"I think, since it's only this one item you got, I can squeeze you in between other customers," Castiel deflected Dean's comment with a straight face, which bummed the CEO quite a bit but he wouldn't let it show. "You may come to retrieve it around this time tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah great. Thanks." They shared a faintly awkward silence before Dean exhaled noisily and took three steps back toward the door, pulling it open.

"Have a nice day, Winchester," Castiel said as the bell gave a jingle.

"You too, Novak," Dean replied and he didn't know if he was imagining it or not, but he thought he saw Castiel smile.

**…**

The next day saw Dean sitting in a booth of a diner that used to be Harvelle's Roadhouse but now belonged to a chain that he couldn't be bothered to learn the name of. On the table in front of him sat a cup of black coffee, a plate with a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup, and the day's newspaper which he was currently studying with only the slightest hint of interest. He turned the pages too quickly to actually read most headlines and blindly reached for his coffee or a forkful of pancake every once in a while.

Especially the latter move went awry as a syrup-soaked piece of his food didn't make it all the way into his mouth and instead decided to reside on his previously still spotless shirt instead. Dean looked down with a whispered "You have _got_ to be kiddin' me".

That was two ruined freaking shirts in a row, what kind of a statistic was that for a grown-ass man.

He sighed, glaring at the sticky brown-ish syrup stain as if it had insulted him with its existence. However, the anger quickly transformed into a smirk as the Winchester realized what the little mishap meant. He got to pay Castiel Novak another visit.

With a grin he got out his wallet and threw a couple of bills on the table before finishing his coffee and leaving the diner. Outside he headed straight for his Impala, opening the trunk and again rummaging through his suitcase for another t-shirt.

(He may or may not have slept in the backseat of his beloved car that night because he couldn't bring himself to use any of the beds in the house, but that's a different story entirely.)

His next stop was once again Novak's Laundry Service and once again he cringed at the cheerful jingle the bell gave as he pushed the door open. This time Castiel wasn't sitting in his spot, in fact he was nowhere to be seen at all.

"Hello?" Dean called out.

There was a crash followed by a string of colourful curses that he couldn't help but snicker at before an answering call was yelled from a back room. "Be right with you."

For a minute Dean stayed put but he didn't do that whole waiting thing very well and soon started snooping around the room. There were racks of plastic wrapped clothing everywhere, on a high shelf were neatly folded blankets, in a corner stood two ironing boards and a steamer-thingy for the dry-cleaning. Dean looked through the name tags on the shirts, partly searching for his own piece of clothing but mostly to see how many of the names he recognized.

"Good morning, sorry to have kept you waiting. How may I-" Castiel stopped talking as Dean looked up at him with a dazzling smile.

"Hey, Castiel."

The dark-haired man frowned. "I'm afraid your shirt isn't ready yet… Dean." And just like that they were on a first-name basis, the Winchester noted in triumph.

"Well, yeah I guessed as much but… I had another accident," he said, gesturing at the syrup stain on his shirt.

Castiel looked like he was trying very hard not to grin as he looked first at the stain and then back up. "You do realize that you are supposed to eat with your mouth, not your chest, right?"

"Gee, so that's been my mistake all along, thanks for pointing it out to me." Both men chuckled at the sarcastic remark before Dean began unbuttoning his shirt again, perhaps a bit slower than strictly necessary. Castiel's poker-face was good but not entirely flawless because his blue eyes wandered down to stare at his bare chest twice before he had them under control again. The Winchester handed over his shirt with a sly smile.

"May I ask what brings you to back to Lawrence?" Castiel asked casually as he examined the dried syrup closely while Dean put on the worn t-shirt, enjoying the soft feel of it and wondering why he even bothered with business shirts when he was on vacation.

"You could call it a back-to-the-roots trip, I guess. It's been a while since my last visit and my mom's buried here in Lawrence, so I wanted to see her."

"I remember Mrs Winchester, she was a very nice woman. I'm so sorry for your loss." Castiel was no longer looking at the shirt, instead blue eyes burned their way into his green ones. Dean almost crumbled under the intensity of the stare.

"Thanks. It's been so damn long but I still miss her, you know. I couldn't even enter our old house yesterday because everything in there reminds me of her." He was surprised at how honest he was being with the stranger in front of him but somehow the two men shared a comfortable familiarity.

"That's understandable, Dean. She was your mother." After another thirty seconds of soul penetrative staring Castiel turned away again but Dean didn't want the conversation to end just yet.

"What made _you_ come back?"

Castiel sighed, dropping the shirt. "Out of all my siblings and other relatives I was the only who had left and wasn't bound by another job or a relationship. I was the family's failure, so to say." He shrugged indifferently but Dean detected the hurt in those blue eyes. "When my father grew too old to keep working, he demanded I take over or he would disown me. So I had no choice but to return."

"That kinda sounds like it sucks," the Winchester commented sympathetically, earning a huffed laugh from the other man in return.

"Yes, very much so."

Dean swallowed, debating with himself whether he should dare to step closer or not but then doing just that. "What would you want to do instead?"

The Novak bit his bottom lip, thinking. "I have always been interested in different religions," he finally admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not really the church-going kind of person, but the story behind faith and the similarities in religious beliefs all around the world are quite fascinating to me."

"You should do something with that," Dean blurted out. "I mean if that's what you're interested in then you can't waste your time washing the shirts of people like me that are too dumb to eat without getting stains on them. You're above this."

Castiel smiled sadly. "I'm flattered that you would think so highly of me but I have come to peace with my work here."

"That's not what it looks like to me."

"Well, that's too bad." All of a sudden Castiel's voice turned cold. "You can get both your shirts tomorrow so you don't have to come in twice." With that the dark-haired man disappeared into the back room again without as much as a glance back.

**…**

Dean had finally gathered all his courage and entered the mausoleum that was his childhood home. Everything was, as he had feared, like he remembered, only covered in a layer of dust. He stalked through all the different rooms, afraid to make a sound even though nothing would happen if he did. Upstairs he leaned against the doorframe of his own room and looked inside. It seemed like he had merely left for a grocery trip, not for good and that fact tugged at his heart almost painfully. In his pocket he felt his phone vibrate with an incoming text message. It was from his brother.

_Everything alright?_

He typed up a quick reply, telling the younger Winchester that he was fine and the house was fine and that he really didn't have a thing to worry about. Sam had never held onto the past as fiercely as Dean had but still understood why his older brother might be troubled by staying their old residence. Dean was glad for the support he was getting, even if it was just through texts.

_You should go out, meet with some people_

The older Winchester figured his brother had a point there. He knew a couple of their old high school friends had never left the place and would probably be happy to exchange stories with him, especially Joanna, who had always had a crush on him, even after the exchange student incident. However, Dean had to admit to himself that it really wasn't her that he wanted to have drinks with.

His ideal company didn't have a cheeky smile and long blond hair, but piercing blue eyes and a permanent case of fresh-out-of-bed hair. Dean sighed. It started to slightly worry him how badly he craved the Novak's company, especially since he had never felt that way when they had gone to school together. But the other man had aged well, he decided. As a student he had worn oversized nerd glasses and his shirts had permanently been tugged into his navel-high dress pants. He hadn't been Dean's type at all.

But holy cow had that changed. Now Castiel dressed smartly in well-fitting jeans and shirts that accentuated his mesmerizing eye colour and the Winchester probably shouldn't be paying attention to the other man's attire this closely but he couldn't help it. Without even realizing that he was walking he was already halfway out the door, intent on catching Castiel before he closed shop.

He was lucky because just as he stopped the Impala at the Novaks' business the dark-haired man stepped outside and locked the door behind him. Dean honked his horn, startling the Novak who jumped slightly at the noise, glaring back at him over his shoulder. The Winchester grinned.

"Please don't tell me you stained another shirt," Castiel said with a half-smile, the anger from earlier that day long gone. "That would be embarrassing for you."

Dean laughed as the other man leaned against the car's roof, talking with him through the rolled-down window. "No, not this time. Though who said I didn't do it on purpose the first two times?"

"And why would you willingly do that?" Castiel asked, mirroring Dean's flirtatious tone for the first time.

The Winchester looked up at the older man. "Ah, I don't know, there's this hot guy working at the laundry service. I had to come up with a reason to see him." Castiel raised a sceptical eyebrow but blushed nonetheless. "So," Dean continued, "You wouldn't happen to have time for a drink?"

The Novak took his time checking the watch around his wrist and pretending to think hard about the question. "As a matter of fact I think I can spare an hour or so," he finally said with a genuine smile.

Dean beamed right back at him. "Awesome, get in the car."

Castiel rounded the Impala and got in on the passenger side, Dean shifted into gear and off they went, of course slightly faster than the speed limit allowed since the Winchester felt like he needed to show off a bit. For a long time they didn't speak, but Castiel was fidgety and obviously wanted to say something. When he finally did it was unexpected. "I take it the rumour about you and Javier back in high school wasn't all that untrue?"

"You heard about that too? Jeez, I really never meant to make such a big deal out of it, the whole thing got blown way out of proportion. Dean Winchester kisses boys now, end of story. No need to spread the word throughout the entire friggin' country." Dean shrugged but kept his eyes on the road. From the corner of his eye he saw Castiel smirk into the semi-darkness.

"When I heard about it I was certain it was an early April fool's joke," he said. "But then I thought about it and it supported the general image of you flirting with everything that breathes."

"Come on, I wasn't _that_ bad. And how would you know, anyway?" The Winchester huffed, exasperated at the accusation.

"Well, you did come into my shop and took your shirt off, if that's anything to go by. And back in school word travelled fast, it was almost impossible to not hear about your weekly conquests, even if I really couldn't have been less interested."

Dean frowned. "Fine, you got a point. But I'm no like that anymore, though I really can't blame you for not believing that."

Again silence settled between them and again Castiel was the one to break it. "I do believe you, though I have the faint idea that I might regret that in the future. I'm not wasting my time with you, am I?"

Dean shook his head. "You won't and you aren't. I promise, we'll go out for drinks and we'll talk and you'll see that there's another, better side to the Dean Winchester you heard stories about twenty years ago."

"I would like that very much," Castiel said quietly.

**…**

Three months later Dean returned home from dinner with a possible client, suit jacket buttoned all the way even though the night was still lukewarm. The last thing he expected was a suitcase in front of his door and a figure sitting in the hallway next to it.

"Cas?" he asked incredulously. The other man's head snapped up at his name and a tired pair of blue eyes met with his.

"Hello, Dean."

"I didn't expect you to come for another month," Dean said softly, offering a hand to pull the Novak up into a standing position. They stared at each other for a moment before Castiel leaned in and captured Dean's lips in a soft kiss. The Winchester sank into the sweet gesture with a sigh, backing Castiel up into the door to his apartment.

"I couldn't wait to see you again," the dark-haired man murmured in between kisses, smiling against Dean's lips when his hands came to rest lightly on the Novak's hips.

"Well thank God because I was already looking at flights to Kansas. If you hadn't turned up I would've had to get there and drag you back with me," Dean admitted as he pulled away to unlock the door. Next he grabbed Castiel's suitcase and led the way inside.

"You hate flying," the Novak noticed with a grimace, walking straight into the living room and dropping onto the couch. "And I know you can't leave your company like that."

"I absolutely despise flying, Cas, but you're giving me a pretty good reason to look past that fact. Plus," he unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing a red stain, "I heard you wash shirts for a living?"

The Novak eyed what he guessed was red wine curiously before bursting into laughter. "Dean, you really need to learn how to eat and drink like an adult, this is getting ridiculous," he said once he regained some of his composure.

The Winchester rolled his eyes and threw the suit jacket over a chair before sitting down next to his… Cas. The two of them hadn't really wanted to label whatever they had just yet. For the rest of his stay in Lawrence Dean had taken Castiel out every night and they had sometimes not even made it to a bar, instead they had stayed in the Impala for hours and just talked. On the last night the Winchester had taken a risk and initiated their first kiss, even though Castiel was very hard to read and he'd had no idea if they'd been on the same page or not.

But Castiel had kissed back and that had made things infinitely better but also a lot harder because Dean couldn't have stayed in Kansas even a day longer even though he'd badly wanted to. So they'd parted ways with the promise to call each other and exchanged addresses and then there had been two weeks of no contact.

What happened next had been destiny, according to his sappy little brother, because two weeks and _one day_ after Dean had left Kansas he'd gotten a call from Castiel Novak, telling him that he was in town to get spare parts for one of his dryers that for some stupid reason- that Dean was secretly very grateful for- couldn't be delivered but had to be personally collected.

They had met up and spent a lot of time together- most of it in Dean's bedroom.

When Castiel had to leave for Lawrence again, Dean had driven him to the airport and might have said one or two foolishly sentimental things too many and maybe snuck in a few more kisses than he should have but if any of that bothered the Novak he hadn't mentioned it.

So the pair had skyped (and sexted) a lot during the months that followed and since Dean could hardly leave the company with his brother all the time, Castiel had promised to come and visit again and again but it just hadn't worked out. They'd both agreed that long distance relationships sucked major balls and therefore refused to admit that they were both already in it way too deep to let go of whatever they had.

And now that Castiel was finally there again Dean simply couldn't believe his luck. "I missed you," he whispered into the Novak's ear, playfully biting a sweet spot he remembered. Castiel leaned into the touch and hummed in appreciation.

"I enrolled in a course," he said conversationally while his hands were already working on Dean's belt, unbuckling it with delicious slowness. "Religious studies."

Dean leaned back slightly. "Hey, that's great! Which university?"

By now the Winchester was already familiar with the little lip-biting tick Castiel had going whenever he wasn't quite sure what to say. He found it almost adorable. Finally he saw determination flicker in those blue eyes he loved. "Penn State."

"That's nowhere near Lawrence, Cas," Dean stated dumbly. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"It's an _online_ course, I don't need to attend actual classes. And… I wasn't planning on staying in Lawrence. In fact I already found someone to take over the laundry business and, well, I am going to move here. My new apartment isn't that far away, if you want to see it?"

Well, that was a lot of information to take in and for a solid ten minutes Dean Winchester was too dumbfounded to talk. With every passing moment of silence he could see Castiel's confidence crumble and that he didn't want so instead of saying something he pulled the other man into a passionate kiss, trying to get his feelings across. "That sounds like you put a lot of planning into all of this, why didn't you say anything? I could've at least helped you with finding an apartment."

Castiel smiled softly, stroking his fingers through Dean's short hair. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Cas, you should surprise me more often," Dean said in awe.

"Oh, I fully plan on doing so." Castiel's tone was suddenly almost sultry as he guided Dean's hand past the waistband of his dark jeans. The Winchester's eyes shot wide open.

"Commando?" he almost growled. "Okay, I was going to open a bottle of champagne to celebrate but that's gotta wait now."

"Bedroom?" Castiel asked with an innocent nod into the right direction.

"Damn right," Dean agreed after a searing kiss, dragging Castiel up and through his apartment. At the door he hesitated. "Wait a second… are we, like, boyfriends now?" he asked. After all they hadn't labelled their thing because they'd been living in different states, now the situation was a lot different.

The Novak looked him up and down as if to consider this option, chuckling at Dean's facial expression. "Yes, I believe we are. Although it sounds terribly teenager-esque to refer to you as such."

"I agree," Dean said with a relieved chuckle. "What else should I introduce you as? My life-partner?"

Castiel crinkled his nose. "That sounds even worse, doesn't it?"

"Lover?"

"God no!"

"Husband?"

"Not yet."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Interesting. Significant other?"

Castiel shoved Dean into the bedroom impatiently. "Let's think about that another time. Please. I haven't seen you in far too long."

"Fair enough."

As he impatiently tugged at the fabric of Dean's shirt, Castiel's eyes fell once more onto the obnoxious remnants of red wine and he really looked like he would dismiss it again but in the end couldn't help commenting on it in between kisses. "For the record? I am not going to keep washing your shirts in the future."

**…**

Of course he ended up doing just that and even years later it was a full-time job, but that's what you get for falling in love with Dean Winchester; a lot of dirty laundry.

(It wasn't like Dean didn't know how to make up for it.)


End file.
